Comforting Willow
by BonnieD
Summary: Spike shares Willow's pain. Kind of a sequel to "If a Tree Falls....", but it's not absolutely necessary to read that first.


Title: COMFORTING WILLOW (1/1) Author: Bonnie Email: bondav40@yahoo.com Rating: PG Summary: Spike shares Willow's pain. Kind of a sequel to "If a Tree Falls....", but it's not absolutely necessary to read that first. Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss and UPN.  
  
Willow Rosenberg, once witch-extraordinaire, was a shadow of her former self; a pale, wispy shadow which rarely left its room and subsisted on a diet of fruit juices and snack crackers. After her failed "Pinky and the Brain" rampage, she had retreated to her parents' home and shut down completely. She stopped attending classes, or going to the Magic Box. She stopped going anywhere and brooded her days and nights away in silence. Her mother was shocked, her father concerned, and all her friends tried to draw her back into the world, but, really, what was the point? No Tara equaled no life.  
  
One hundred forty three days and counting since the light of her life had been snuffed out. Buffy sat on the foot of her bed chattering about some incident with Dawn and her friend Valerie, as Willow stared blankly and nodded at appropriate moments.  
  
"So then I told her, 'Dawn, there's no way you're hanging around with that girl anymore. She's a bad influence,' and she threw a temper tantrum. You'd think the girl was six years old instead of almost-sixteen!"  
  
Willow easily read the desperation in Buffy's eyes. She knew the chatter meant nothing but only filled the time and space between them with white noise. Drowning out the silence with a flow of words had become Buffy's mission. She was determined to 'Save Willow!' with a heavy barrage of friendship. It was suffocating, but must be endured. What was there to do but endure? And endure....and endure....day after day, second by second.....It was exhausting.  
  
Willow sighed unconsciously and the stream of Buffy's narrative cut off abruptly. The redhead registered the brief flash of hurt/irritation in her friend's eyes, and thought she should feel guilty but it was too much of an effort.  
  
"I'm sorry. You're tired, Will?" Buffy got up to leave, then paused. "You know. You might have more energy if you got out once in awhile," she said tentatively. "Do you want to, I don't know, just take a little walk down the block with me...."  
  
Willow was already shaking her head. She managed a spasm of mouth muscles that would have to pass for a smile. "No thanks, Buffy. Maybe...maybe tomorrow."  
  
"But, you've been saying that for over a month now, and I don't see you getting any better....any more ready to face the world."  
  
"No. I'm not coming to grips very well am I?" The witch's innocent enough words were tinged with sarcasm. "I guess I'm finally gettin' the sad-Buffy syndrome you suffered last year." The new, bitter Willow knew how to dig hard and deep and leave Buffy with a mouthful of emptiness.  
  
The Slayer tried a last friendly smile, which fell horribly flat, then turned to go. "Well, see you later in the week, then," she promised.  
  
************* Spike repositioned the lamp he'd scavenged from the dump for the tenth time. If he turned it just right, the crooked shade leaned against the wall and the crack in the flowered porcelain was pretty much hidden. It had been a good find. Reclaiming discarded objects to replace the ones Clem had "borrowed" had become a nightly obsession for Spike. If he dealt with things - with the process of creating a habitat for himself - he didn't have to think about people as much.  
  
Who was he kidding? Thoughts of Buffy and Dawn haunted him every moment he was awake no matter what he did to fill the time. Spike screwed a new bulb into the socket of the tipsy lamp and clicked it on....nothing. He looked at the frayed cord, wires exposed, and wondered if he'd get a shock if he touched them. He licked a finger and poked at the red and blue wires....OW! Yeah, he'd probably better replace the cord. He sighed and unplugged his latest treasure, adding it to the pile of other objects in the corner that "just needed a little fixing."  
  
Bored now, and countless hours to fill before daybreak. Time to go out and kill. Spike grabbed his old red shirt, tossed it on over his standard black tee. God, how he missed the duster, but he'd be damned if he'd ask Buffy about it. She knew he was back, knew about the soul-thing, and had let him know that friendship was possible but would have to be approached in a careful manner. He had determined not to harass her like a demented stalker this time - and so he played the waiting game. Patience had never been Spike's long suit!  
  
In fact, he cursed himself for an impulsive git for the whole soul fiasco. It had seemed a brilliant idea at the time, but he now realized what a curse having a conscience could be. The little bit of good behavior he had developed on behalf of Buffy-love before was nothing compared to the raging "Do this. Don't do that." which hounded his brain these days. " 'Should, could, might, ought to,' were not words Spike was accustomed to applying to his behavior, and the whole thing royally pissed him off.  
  
Spike shook himself out of his mental rut realizing he'd way overshot his brooding quota for the day. Time to DO instead of THINK. Nothing wrong with killing bad guys, eh? He set off into the night.  
  
**************** Willow walked through the cemetery, stake lightly held at her side. She might appear fragile and "victim-ish," but she still had enough spark left in her to kill if necessary. She had walked this path every night, unbeknownst to her parents and friends. Slipping out the window like a schoolgirl, she had begun a nightly ritual of visiting Tara's grave. In the months she'd been traversing the graveyard, she had yet to be accosted by anyone - demon or human. Tonight, she was being stalked.  
  
Kicking through a drift of last year's fallen leaves, Willow passed through the older part of the cemetery with its ornate monuments and came to the plainer markers that dotted the newer section. And there was Tara's, blending in with all the other shabby, square blocks. No angels or decorative swirls set this stone apart from the others - showed what a special, unique person Tara had been. Willow knelt next to the grave and plucked a beer can and a Cheetohs bag from it. One would think the young people in this town would have learned there were safer places to sit and party than the cemetery.  
  
Powers sleeping but not dead, a prickling sensation on her skin told the witch that an unseen presence was near. She didn't lift her head or stop tidying her lover's grave, but her senses were alert and her hand ready to stake anything that bothered her in this sacred place. Seconds ticked by and no assault came. It was unnerving and....annoying. Finally her patience broke.  
  
"Look, if you're going to attack me, do it already!" she snapped aloud at the black night surrounding her. "And, if not, get the hell away from me."  
  
A dark figure separated from the shadow of a large monument several yards away. A flame flared briefly and left behind the glowing red tip of a cigarette, and a familiar voice drawled, "You looking for trouble, Red? What're you doing out and about by your lonesome in the middle of the night?"  
  
Willow relaxed and turned her attention back to Tara. Just Spike. Just stupid, powerless Spike back from his adventure in Africa. Buffy'd told her the story the other day. Quest. Tests. Soul. Etc. It had held no more interest for Willow than Dawn's description of the leather jacket she was saving up for with her wages from the Stop 'n' Shop. It was only another story about pointless stuff that mattered not at all.  
  
The blond vampire moved up behind her. She could feel him staring at the gravestone over her shoulder, smell the tang of burning tobacco. His presence irritated her. It disturbed her solitude and destroyed her sense of communing with Tara's spirit.  
  
"Go away." "Sorry to hear about...." They spoke simultaneously then fell silent.  
  
"She was a right nice girl," Spike began again after a moment. "Always real sweet to everybody....even me."  
  
Willow nodded.  
  
Spike smoked in silence a little longer.  
  
"For what it's worth, I know.....I really know how much it hurts," he said quietly. "Lost Buffy just last year, didn't I? It's like someone tearing your sodding limbs off and ripping your guts out and shredding your heart into pieces then ramming'em down your throat." He thought for a moment and added, "Every day."  
  
A ghost of a smile flitted across Willow's face. "That about covers it," she murmured.  
  
"And then some clever git trying to make you feel better says things like, 'It'll get better.' and 'The hurt won't last forever.' and 'She'd want to you carry on.' and whatever other bleeding Hallmark sentiments they can come up with!"  
  
Despite herself Willow's smile widened. "Exactly."  
  
"And all you want to do is lie there and die too. But there've been promises made and you have to carry on just like the git said. You have to remind yourself every single day why you're doing it when all you want to do is sleep. But time keeps on passing and you keep on living."  
  
The witch nodded again. Spike was pleased to see he was reaching her. He moved still closer and sat down across the grave from her. "Want a fag?" he asked, offering his crumpled pack of cigarettes.  
  
"No thanks."  
  
Spike took a deep drag and tried and failed to blow smoke rings. He watched the witch's profile; lank hair, pale face, shadowed eyes, bony arms. She might not be jumping off a bridge to die, but she was sure as hell doing it by inches.  
  
"You know," he began again, cautiously choosing words, "you and me have a lot in common. About the time your wolf-boy up and left you was when Dru left me - the second time. The night I found out about the chip I think you wanted to be bit about as much as I wanted to do it. Both depressed and angry we were. Of course, I was already half in love with the bloody Slayer and didn't even know it yet."  
  
"Well no, Spike. I don't think I wanted to be killed. That's just your way of justifying the things you. People aren't 'asking for it.'" Willow felt compelled to set him straight and it amazed her because she hadn't felt compelled to do anything for a long time.  
  
He shrugged. "Maybe so, maybe not. But the point is, we've both lost two people we love, and we've both done evil things people expect us to feel sorry for. Yeah, I heard about your black mojo a few months back." Spike grinned, "Feels good, doesn't it? Nothing as exhilarating as chaos!"  
  
Willow looked up in surprise. People had been trying to comfort her and forgive her on a daily basis, but no one had ever understood the pleasure of that spree of power-mad destruction. It HAD been exhilarating!  
  
"I know." Spike nodded agreement to her shocked expression. "Even when you know it's wrong and you're sorry for hurting people, you remember the glory of it all. Right?"  
  
She inclined her head almost imperceptibly. Tears began to well in her eyes.  
  
"Oh my God, I'm an evil person now aren't I? I can never go back," she moaned.  
  
"You've tasted it. You want it. But that doesn't mean you can't choose to reject it," Spike said. "Red, you're far from evil. But you ARE going to have to watch yourself real careful from now on."  
  
"No magic," she murmured.  
  
"Bollocks! You can no more give up magic than Buffy can stop being the Slayer. It's a big part of what you are, and don't let your brain dead friends say otherwise. You just have to decide where your line in the sand is and don't cross it. And if you're in doubt ask yourself 'What would Tara do.' That'll keep you on course."  
  
"I miss her so much, Spike, I can't stir myself to care about anything." Willow looked directly at him for the first time, eyes entreating. "How do I get through this? Can you tell me that since you seem to be so wise tonight? When will it end?"  
  
"Won't end. It'll hurt like an amputation but you'll get used to the pain. You'll keep forcing yourself to do things every day, things you don't even care about, and eventually something'll take your interest. A day will come when the pain will be dull and achy instead of sharp and stabbing. I hate to give you another Hallmark platitude but 'Time heals'."  
  
"How would you know? You got your Buffy back!" Willow snapped.  
  
"You're right," Spike laughed. "I'm full of piss. I never got to the healing part before you bailed me out with your clever spell. Sounded good though, didn't it?"  
  
Willow laughed too, then caught herself and almost choked trying to take it back.  
  
"It's okay to laugh," the vampire tilted his head and regarded her intently. "It's okay to live. 'Cause Tara...."  
  
"...would have wanted it that way. I know. I've heard it before," Willow sighed. She squeezed her eyes closed tightly and wiped tears away from their edges, then she opened them wide and favored Spike with a genuine grin. "I don't know if it's your shiny new soul or what, but you're turning into a nice undead guy despite yourself, Mr. Big Bad."  
  
"You take that back! I'm nothing of the kind," he protested lightly.  
  
"I don't know, between your work with Buffy's damaged psyche last year - all that sex therapy and whatnot - and your counseling me tonight, I think you have a new career mapped out for you: Master Spike, Vampire Therapist."  
  
"Could be," he smiled. "Recommend me to all your friends. God knows Harris could use some help with his father issues and commitment phobia."  
  
"Well," Willow continued, "I'm not saying I don't still feel like crap, cause I do, but I feel like a better level of crap....I guess." She got to her feet and held out a hand to help Spike up. "Anyway.....um....thanks for talking."  
  
"No problem."  
  
"And if you ever need to, you know, talk about your Buffy-problem, you have an invite into my parents' home from me. Come by and see me."  
  
"Goes both ways, Red. You can come out, as well. Being a recluse isn't going to make things any better. You come over to my crypt and see me some evening, all right?"  
  
She smiled faintly and nodded, then turned to walk home.  
  
"Later then," he said.  
  
Spike shadowed her all the way there. She pretended not to notice, but it felt good to have him lurking somewhere in the darkness behind her. It felt safe and friendly....comforting.  
  
End 


End file.
